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Thursday, June 9, 2016

Author Of The Month - Marie Sexton - Week Two

Welcome to our second week of celebrating the fantabulous

In today's post, we'll talk about Damned If You Do, Lost Along The Way, Song Of Oestend, and Saviours Of Oestend, plus five little-known things about Marie. And all the way at the bottom is another chance to win one of her awesome books!

First up, Song Of Oestend:

Blurb:

Symbols have power...Aren Montrell has heard tales of the Oestend wraiths - mysterious creatures which come in the night and kill anyone who's not indoors. Aren's never had reason to believe the stories, but when he takes a job as a bookkeeper on the BarChi, a dusty cattle ranch on the remote Oestend prairie, he soon learns that the wraiths are real. Aren suddenly finds himself living in a supposedly haunted house and depending on wards and generators to protect him from unseen things in the night. As if that's not enough, he has to deal with a crotchety old blind woman, face "cows" that look like nothing he's ever seen before, and try to ignore the fact that he's apparently the most eligible bachelor around.Aren also finds himself the one and only confidante of Deacon, the BarChi's burly foreman. Deacon runs the BarChi with an iron fist and is obviously relieved to finally have somebody he can talk to. As their relationship grows, Aren learns there's more to Deacon and the BarChi than he'd anticipated. Deacon seems determined to deny both his Oestend heritage and any claim he may have to the BarChi ranch, but if Aren is to survive the perils of Oestend, he'll have to convince Deacon to stop running from the past and finally claim everything that's his.Reader Advisory: This book is set in an alternate reality and contains scenes of violence, mild D/s and bondage, and a M/M/M menage scene.

Excerpt:

Aren closed the
door to their stall. They still wouldn’t have total privacy—the
walls only came up to Aren’s shoulder—but it somehow served to
underline the point that they were finally alone. He turned to find
Deacon watching him. His expression was exactly as it had been at the
dinner table—hopeful, aroused, and completely submissive. “Take
off your pants,” Aren said.

Deacon smiled at him. “Have to
take my boots off first.” But he didn’t argue. He pulled his
boots off, tossing them into the corner. Then he slowly took his
pants off. He didn’t toss those on the floor. He folded them and
placed them on a hay bale before turning back to Aren. His shirt hung
down past his hips, although the front of it was caught on his rather
impressive erection.

Aren stepped up close to him and began to
unbutton his shirt. “We don’t have enough time to do this right,”
he said as he worked his way down the front of Deacon’s shirt. “But
I’m not letting you hide from me anymore.”

“I wasn’t
the one hiding.” Of course that was true. Aren hadn’t thought of
it as hiding, but he could see now that was exactly how it had
looked.

“I was trying to give you space if you wanted
it.”

“Seemed like you didn’t want to see me.”

“I
woke up in the morning and you were gone. I figured that was your way
of telling me you didn’t want it to happen again.”

“No,”
Deacon said, looking amused. “That was my way of telling you I had
chores to do before breakfast.”

“You’re forgiven,”
Aren said, even though it hadn’t actually been an apology, and he
was pleased when Deacon laughed. Aren undid the bottom button and
pushed the shirt backwards off Deacon’s shoulders.

“You
have to undo the cufflinks,” Deacon said.

Aren smiled and
shook his head. “Not this time.” He pulled the shirt down
Deacon’s arms, and just as he’d planned, the sleeves turned
inside out, but stopped before Deacon’s big hands escaped from the
cuffs. Aren moved behind him. He pulled Deacon’s hands together and
used the fabric of the shirt to bind Deacon’s hands behind his
back. It wouldn’t be enough to hold him if he really wanted to get
free, but Aren was pretty sure Deacon didn’t want to escape
anyway.

He walked back in front of Deacon, tracing his fingers
down the scar that started at Deacon’s collarbone and trailed
towards his navel. Deacon’s eyes were closed, his breathing heavy,
his cock hard and tipped with a bead of moisture.

“You
don’t get to come right now,” Aren said. He leant forwards to
tease one of Deacon’s nipples, flicking his tongue over the bud of
flesh. “You’re going to have to wait.”

“Then what are
you doing here?” Deacon asked.

Aren reached down to cup
Deacon’s heavy sac in his hand, squeezing gently, and Deacon
moaned. “I want you to be thinking about me all day.”

“That
won’t be anything new.”

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Secondly, we have Saviours Of Oestend:

Blurb:

Life on the prairie has never been easy, but now Oestend itself seems bent on destruction.Banished from the BarChi by the man he loves, Dante Pane must find a way to rebuild his life and heal his broken heart. Unable to love women, afraid to love men, Dante wants only to find some peace.But peace is hard to come by in Oestend. Dante’s new home reeks of death, he can’t keep his ranch hands in line, and his new cook is taking over his house. As if that’s not enough, strange occurrences plague the prairie—dead animals, unnatural weather, and voices riding wind. Dante is determined to persevere, but it soon becomes clear there’s more at stake than his ranch. All of Oestend is at risk, unless somebody can set things right.With the help of his faithful ranch hands, Frances and Simon, and the combined strength of friends, both old and new, Dante will fight for his life, his home, and the heart of the one he loves.Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, and menage relationships.

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Third in today's line-up, Lost Along The Way (Tales Of The Curious Cookbook):

Blurb:

Three months after losing his parents in a car crash, Denver weatherman Daniel Whitaker returns to Laramie, Wyoming. It’s bad enough dealing with the death of his parents and his failing relationship of fifteen years, but when he finds his childhood home full of clutter, Daniel is at a loss. He enlists Landon, his parents’ sexy neighbor, to help him sort through the mess. Landon Kushner is a study in contradictions. He builds wind sculptures out of scrap metal and loves the outdoors, but he also rides a mint-green Vespa and has an affinity for knitting and fortune-telling. He's been friends with Daniel's parents for years, and he's more than willing to lend a hand.Their plan is simple: clean the house so Daniel can sell it and get back to his life in Denver. But when a strange cookbook comes into Landon’s possession, Daniel begins to realize that the universe–and Granny B–may have other plans.

Excerpt:

It
didn’t surprise me to learn he loved nature. He loved the wind and
the sun and wide-open spaces, and I could see how those things suited
him. But he also had a fondness for knitting patterns and doilies,
although he said he was all thumbs when it came to making the damn
things—the mental image of him knitting made me want to giggle
again—and he was strangely intrigued by anything that hinted at the
supernatural. He checked his horoscope in the newspaper religiously,
owned several decks of tarot cards, and mentioned in one off-hand
conversation a visit with a palm reader. I couldn’t ever get a good
feel for how much he believed in the stuff. Sometimes he seemed
skeptical, but other times his tone was almost reverent.

I
supposed it was this strange affinity for the unknown that inspired
his interest in the cookbook.

“I’ve
googled everything I can think of,” he told me one Sunday afternoon
as we sorted through boxes in the living room. “I can’t find
anything about Granny B. Nothing. But the recipes! I can’t help but
wonder if they actually do the things they say. Lulu says—”

“Who’s
Lulu?”

“My
psychic advisor.” I blinked at him, trying to decide how to
respond, but he went on as if I hadn’t interrupted. “She says I
should proceed with caution if I start cooking. She says it’s never
wise to mess with the unknown. But I could tell she was interested. I
thought maybe she’d heard of Granny B, but—”

“You
have a psychic advisor?” I interrupted, unable to get past that
strange revelation.

He
moved the box he’d been sorting—which had been full of porcelain
dolphins—to the spot by the door, which told me he intended to take
them to his booth at the flea market. “Of course. Don’t you?”

“No.”

He
took the lid off the next box and peered inside. “I’m not
surprised. You’re a Taurus, right?”

“Right.”
And how the hell did he know that?

“I
suppose you don’t need one, being a meteorologist.”

“I
don’t need one because it’s impossible to predict the future.”

He
smiled at me. “Isn’t that what you do? Predict the future?”

“What
I do is science.”

“And
all anyone ever does is point out when you’re wrong. It must be
infuriating. I mean, you’re right more often than not, right? But
they never get it.”

“Uh....”
That last part was dead-on, but I was still reeling from his
comparison of meteorology and psychic prediction.

“Anyway,”
he went on, “I actually thought maybe Lulu’d sent the cookbook,
but she swears she didn’t, and she isn’t a very good liar.”

“She’s
a psychic
advisor. Her
entire career is a lie.”

He
stood up straight from the box he’d been digging into to face me,
his fists on his hips. “Some of them may be charlatans, but Lulu
isn’t.”

“How
do you know?”

“She’s
my mom.”

Talk
about awkward. I felt like a complete ass. “For the record, you
might want to lead with that next time.”

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And the final book in today's post, coming June 14th, Damned If You Do:

Blurb:

The path to temptation is paved with a hellish amount of paperwork.Soul acquisition is a drag, but if Abaddon doesn’t catch up on his quota, he could be demoted to scooping poop for the Hounds of Hell. With a deadline hanging over him, he heads for the Bible Belt, looking for the perfect combination of sweetness and challenge.Seth is a blind musician, part of a traveling tent revival. He’s cute, mystically talented, and quotes the Bible at every turn. His soul is pure enough to fill Abaddon’s quota for months to come, and Abaddon is determined to claim it.The problem? There’s the revival foreman who watches Abaddon’s every move. Then there’s the mystery of Seth’s many unusual talents. Lastly, there’s Abaddon himself. He’s beginning to like Seth a bit too much. Maybe Seth deserves something better than damnation.But Hell’s agenda isn’t negotiable, and time is running out. If Abaddon doesn’t play his cards right, he could condemn both of them to the worst fate of all—an eternity apart.Warning: Contains a Bible-quoting twink and an irreverent devil who’ll do anything to avoid going “back to the office”. Also, snakes. Lots and lots of snakes.

Excerpt:

Abaddon
caught Seth’s wrist to keep him still so he could move closer,
reeling at the sensation that simple contact caused. Seth was
trembling, and Abaddon stopped short, his fingertips an inch from
Seth’s cheek. “Are you ready?”

Seth’s
Adam’s apple bobbed. When he spoke, his voice was tight. “For
what?”

“To
see.”

“Wh-what?”
Tears brimmed in Seth’s eyes. “You can do that?”

But
Abaddon didn’t bother to answer. He couldn’t. He couldn’t think
beyond the

eagerness
that filled him, being so near Seth and having a gift he could
present, like some kind of offering. His throat was tight, and for a
minute, he could only stare at Seth’s trusting face. It was all he
could do to keep from kissing him, pulling him close, sliding his
hand inside Seth’s shirt and feeling the soft skin of his lower
back as they tasted each other.

But
he resisted the urge.

He
laid his palm against Seth’s cheeks instead, the tips of his first
two fingers on Seth’s temple.

And
he let the power flow.

It
took only a second, and then Seth gasped. He didn’t move his
head—he held perfectly still—but his eyes moved rapidly, scanning
back and forth, seeking a point of focus. “Ohh...” More tears
pooled in his eyes, and finally, his gaze settled on Abaddon’s
face. “You weren’t lying. I really can see.”

It
was hard to make his throat work. “Yes.”

“Will
it last?”

He
could have done it in exchange for a soul, but as a favor? That
simply wasn’t allowed.

Seth
looked around again, taking in the forest and the thin patch of sky
and the sunlight

dappling
the ground before returning to Abaddon. Tears flowed freely down his
cheeks, coming to rest on Abaddon’s hand, where it cradled Seth’s
cheek. They felt like ice against his flesh, and yet he longed to
feel more of them. He had a sudden and irrational urge to taste them.
He moved his thumbs to wipe at them as best he could without breaking
contact with Seth’s temples.

“Oh,
Abaddon,” Seth said, his brow creasing with a frown. “Your eyes.”
He reached up with one hand and laid his fingers against Abaddon’s
cheek.

That
tiny bit of contact made Abaddon’s blood roar in his ears. He felt
the full strength of Seth’s soul in that touch. The purity of his
heart. The undeniable weight of concern.

Concern
for a devil.

Abaddon’s
mouth watered. The soul hunger stabbed all the way to his core. The
urge to consume the boy whole, to drag him through the abyss and
drink the sheer power that lingered in his heart was overwhelming,
and Abaddon pulled away quickly, stumbling backward.

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Five Little-Known Facts:

Okay, this is bordering on TMI,
but I can't stand to have my belly button touched for any reason.
I've always hated it. Normally, my navel's an inny, but when I was
hugely pregnant, it stuck out like a popped turkey timer. It was
horrible. I had to wear bandaids over it for the last few months of
my pregnancy it so it wouldn't rub on my clothes.

I swore for many years that I'd
never have children. After DH and I had been married a few years, we
started reconsidering that decision. We sat down and made a list of
pros and cons. We had a whole list of reasons to NOT have children.
The only item on our "pro" list was "cheap labor."
It wasn't very convincing. We kept talking about it and eventually
decided there had to be some intangible benefit to having kids since
people sometimes did it over and over again. After all, if it
parenthood were really as bad as our lists made it look, nobody
would ever do it more than once! So we decided to take a leap of
faith and have a baby anyway. And let me tell you, that "cheap
labor" thing really hasn't worked out the way we thought it
would.

I've never seen Pretty Woman,
Forrest Gump, Scarface, or The Godfather.

Despite minoring in literature,
I've never had to read Moby Dick, The Grapes of Wrath, or Catcher in
the Rye. Instead, I had to read Lakota Woman (Mary Crow Dog),
Ceremony (Leslie Marmon Silko), Black Elk Speaks (Black Elk), The
Rise of Silas Lapham (William Dean Howells), and The Things They
Carried (Tim O'Brien) several times each. Those first four, I didn't
mind. But The Things They Carried… I really wish I hadn't been
forced to read that book even once, let alone three times. The
writing is amazing, but the book is so gut-wrenching and sad and
horrifying, I feel as if I am forever tainted by its darkness.

My dogs and cats always have Star
Wars names. Over the years, we've had Padawan, Dagobah, Wedge,
Jango, and Padme. Only my daughter's pet mice and lizard have
escaped. (They were named for the Mythbusters and My Little Pony
characters instead.) I also have a great and enduring love for
mutts. I even started (but didn't finish) a middle-grades story
about a mutt who had a bit of an identity crisis because he was
surrounded by designer hybrids. My daughter still nags me to finish
that one, even though she'll have outgrown it by the time I manage
to get it published.

Meet Marie:

Marie Sexton lives in Colorado. She’s a fan of just about anything that involves muscular young men piling on top of each other. In particular, she loves the Denver Broncos and enjoys going to the games with her husband. Her imaginary friends often tag along. Marie has one daughter, two cats, and one dog, all of whom seem bent on destroying what remains of her sanity. She loves them anyway.

Marie also writes dark dystopian erotic fantasy under the name A.M. Sexton.

Thanks for the post. Song of Oested was one of my earlier m/m romance reads and I really enjoyed it...part of what cause my addition. ;-)

I was surprised at how many of your little-known facts I can identify with. I also hate to have my belly button touched because I have a surgery incision scar running through it and no feeling all along the scar. It is very creepy for me to have it touched. I also swore I would not have kids...now I have two and the cheap labor thing is not working at all. Finally, when I was a kid I had two cats who were brothers and looked alike. I named them George and Lucas.